Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
“I know how old you are.”
I release her lips “Do you?”
“You lied?” Her mouth hangs open. “Tell me.”
“Oh, no,” I say over a laugh. “Spoil first, age confession later. You might turn me over. I know my beautiful girl can play dirty.”
“I won’t,” she huffs as I stand her back up, checking her dress hasn’t ridden up. “I can’t believe you lied to me.”
“I can’t believe you handcuffed me to the bed.” I don’t hang around to let the voices in my head call me out. I push into the doors and get us into the store.
29
I head the long way to the elevators to avoid the jewelry rooms and bundle Ava in, hitting the button for the first floor. I see her eyes on the wall, reading the store information guide.
“Hey, I want the fourth floor,” she says. I keep my attention forward. “Jesse?”
The doors open and I’m on the move again, pulling Ava past the collections of designer clothes, most, I note as I briefly scan them, a suitable length. “This way,” I sing, happy.
I suddenly feel her resistance, not surprisingly since the personal shopping department just came into view. “No, Jesse,” she says, adamant, trying to remove her hand from mine, digging her feet in. “No, no, no. Jesse, please.”
I focus on pulling her along, working on my speech to talk her round as I do. She’ll be fine when she settles down. When she forgets about money and independence. I want her to enjoy this. “I have an appointment with Zoe,” I say when we arrive.
“Mr. Ward?” the young chap says, looking down at an iPad.
“Yes.”
“Please, this way. Can I get you any drinks? Champagne, perhaps?”
I look at Ava. I’m even willing to let her have a glass if she’ll just humor my need to spoil her. But she refuses, shaking her head, now quiet. Apprehensive.
“No,” I say to the assistant. “Thank you.” We’re led into the waiting room and offered a seat, and I lower, pulling Ava down with me. She snatches her hand from mine. “What’s up?” I ask tiredly like a dick, reaching for her hand again, holding it.
“Why did you ask me where I wanted to go if you’d already made an appointment?”
“I don’t understand why you would want to trail around a dozen stores when you can have everything brought to you here.” Ava’s version of shopping sounds like hell. Don’t tell me she’d prefer that over this. It’s easy. Pain free.
“Is this how you shop?”
“Yes.” I sigh, done with this debate over fucking shopping. “And I pay for the privilege so just humor me, will you?”
Her lips purse, and I brace myself for the incoming hissy fit but, God love her, Zoe breezes in, her timing perfect. “Jesse,” she says, her arms open in invitation. “How are you?”
Stressed. I go to her, letting her say her hello. “She doesn’t want to be here,” I whisper. “Make this fun.” I pull away. “Zoe. I’m good.” She doesn’t know it yet, but Zoe is helping me in more ways than one, so she’s about to be hit with some serious charm because it’s going to take longer than she’s booked out for me. “You?” I give her a big smile, and she gives me a dubious one, eyeing me with suspicion and confusion. Because in Zoe’s world, who wouldn’t want to be in Harrods being spoiled? Exactly.
“Great,” she says slowly. “This must be Ava.” Abandoning me, she moves in on Ava, obviously keen to find out what it is about this woman that’s got me under the thumb. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Ava smiles, awkward as fuck, and accepts Zoe’s hand. It’s a step in the right direction. She’s not left yet. I’m depending on Zoe now to make sure she doesn’t. “So, Ava, Jesse tells me we’re looking for something special for an important party.”
“Something very special,” I add, sitting again, helping Ava down too, ignoring her constant, poorly concealed dirty looks.
“Okay, what’s your style, Ava?” Zoe asks, and I laugh to myself. Short things. “Give me an idea of what you like.”
“I don’t have a style really.”
Lie. She likes anything that’ll give me heart failure. “Lots of dresses,” I say. “She likes dresses.”
“You like dresses,” Ava retorts quietly. I pout, hitting my knee with hers.
“You’re about a ten, yes?” Zoe asks, looking down Ava’s frame.
Yes, a perfect ten. “Not too short,” I blurt, recoiling at my own words. Did I say that out loud?
When Ava turns a disbelieving look my way, I know I did. I smile, kind of sorry, kind of not.
“Jesse, she has fantastic legs,” Zoe pipes in. “It would be a shame to waste them.” I glare at her. Does she want this commission or not? “What shoe size are you, Ava?”
“I’m a five.”
“Great, let’s go.” Zoe stands and, surprisingly, Ava joins her without any need for persuasion.